Like a girl
by miss selah
Summary: Mohinder doesn’t go home, because all that’s waiting for him there are lies and deceit and sick old man buried beneath old dresses that smell like mothballs and mold. [AU if you look closely] [Slash]


**Like a Girl**

* * *

"Fucking Breakfast club wanna be teacher." Mohinder Suresh looks up from his assignment with an expression of mild disgust on his face. It wasn't so unusual . . . that boy was always giving him a headache, and he was almost always mildly disgusted.

"Teachers here are cock sucking dickweeds." Gabriel Gray mutters, not even bothering to keep his voice down. The teacher, an elderly woman, glowers at him but doesn't speak. There isn't a point. There's no fixing his kind.

"What's your problem, any way?" Gabriel asks, turning to glare at Mohinder.

Mohinder blushes, and turns his attention back to paper, trying to make himself seem as meek as possible. "I don't know what you mean." He lies, because Gabriel scares him. Gabriel scares everybody.

"You lie like a girl." Gabriel seems to think this is hilarious, because he laughs and laughs and laughs. "Are you a fag or something?" Gabriel asks him, dropping his voice so that only Mohinder can hear him as he leans over his desk. "You want me to suck your cock?"

Mohinder makes a choking sound in the back of his throat, and tries not to listen to him as he sucks on his fingers.

"Or do you just want me to fuck you?" He doesn't bother to drop his voice this time, and when the teacher hears him curse, she scowls.

"Gabriel . . ." Her tone is a warning one, and Gabriel rolls his eyes and turns away from Mohinder.

"Fag." He says, laughing, and doesn't pretend to do his class work.

Mohinder does.

* * *

Chandra isn't looking at his son. He's looking at his daughter.

She is wearing a dress that he bought her a few months ago, a pretty pink-and-blue thing that would be indecent if she was even a little bit taller. Right now, though, when she is sixteen and on the verge of woman hood and all white smiles and bright eyes, it's not so bad.

What could be bad? After all, she is his daughter.

Only her hair isn't the pretty straight silk it used to be. . . it's curled with her age, and her skin isn't the same, soft cream color that her mother has. . . it's darkened with her death. \

He reaches out to her, and smoothes down a lock of her curls.

"Father. . ." Mohinder moans, flinching away from his touch.

"Shush, Shanti." Chandra chastises, laughter in his voice. "Don't you know that little girls shouldn't speak?"

Mohinder is about to say something, to tell him that he's not Shanti, because Shanti is dead, but Chandra's eyes narrow dangerously and he concedes.

"Yes father."

* * *

"What happened to you?" Gabriel doesn't really care.

"Nothing." Mohinder lies, moving uneasily in the seat of his chair, because his ass is raw and red and probably still bleeding.

"Your hair's messier than usual, fag." Gabriel notes before he turns away. "Didn't you take a shower this morning?"

Mohinder would have, but his father would have been angry when he clambered out of the dress. Instead, in the middle of the night, he clambered out of the house.

Isaac had let him spend the night. Isaac always lets him in.

* * *

Mohinder met Isaac Mendez a little over a week ago, at a bar that he was too young to get in to.

"I told you, I just left my ID at home!" It was a lie, and the bouncer knew it. "Please, just let me in! My friends are already in there waiting for me!"

Gabriel had told him that he went here all the time. Mohinder wasn't seeking him out, he just wanted to see if it was true.

"And I told you," the bouncer's voice is deep and intimadting, and it didn't really matter if he was built like a stick; with a voice like that you can get people to do what you want. It probably helped, though, that he wasn't built like a stick. He was built like a continent. "Without proper id, you can't get in!"

"I'll vouch for him." Mohinder had thought that it was Gabriel. Mohinder had been wrong.

"Mister Mendez, of course. You and your. . ." The bouncer looked over him, and finally decided on ". . . friend are welcome here any time."

"Of course." Mister Mendez said with a grin, grabbing Mohinder shoulder in an intimate way that reminds Mohinder of Chandra. He guides him in to the building, in to the drugs and sweat and sex, and they sit down on a couch and wait for a waitress to notice them.

"So, what's your name, kid?" Mister Mendez asked.

"Mohinder." His voice quivers.

"Mohinder, hmm?" Mister Mendez rolls a cigarette. "My name's Isaac. I'm a painter."

Mohinder looks up at him with wide eyes. A painter! He's never met someone who was so influential before.

"You look like a girl." Isaac notes, and Mohinder nearly bears his teeth before Isaac leans in and licks his earlobe, then his neck. "Do you fuck like a girl?"

* * *

Mohinder finds Gabriel when they are supposed to be having lunch. He tries to walk up to him with a cocky swagger that belies his false bravado, but all that he manages is a feminine display of swaying hips.

"You're the f-f-fag." Mohinder stutters the accusation, because he's not used to using such vulgarity.

Gabriel shrugs. "So?"

Mohinder hadn't expected this. Not any of it.

* * *

Mohinder doesn't go home, because all that's waiting for him there are lies and deceit and sick old man buried beneath old dresses that smell like mothballs and mold. He goes the Isaac's house, because Isaac will make everything okay.

Isaac's got the drugs that make everything seem fine.

Mohinder steals the smoke from his mouth, and breaths out with a lazy sigh. His clothes fell off of him sometime ago, and now he's waiting for Isaac.

Isaac, who paints as well as he fucks. Isaac, who's never wrong. Isaac, who's gonna take away the pain, because that's what Isaac does best.

"Mohinder?" Isaac says, looking over at him with big black eyes. He looks him up and down, and Mohinder isn't sure if he likes what he sees.

"What, Isaac?" He's hopeful.

Isaac sighs and begins to undress. "Nothin'."

* * *

He was hopeful. Maybe that was the problem.

Because Isaac's gone and changed the lock, and no matter how hard Mohinder begs, Isaac won't open up.

"Please!" He screams like the little girl Chandra thinks he is. "I don't wanna go home!"

Isaac is inside, and Isaac is painting, and Isaac wont even bother to tell him to go away.

* * *

Gabriel doesn't want to go home, because his father is drunk at his girlfriend's house and his mother is drunk at the bar, so he stalks the night with annoyance. It's cold, and it looks like rain.

Perfect.

"Please!" Gabriel recognizes that voice, just as he recognizes those tears. "I don't want to go home!"

Mohinder is on the stoop of some unmarked house, in some unmarked part of town, when it starts to pour. He's pounding against the door in time with the rain and it reminds Gabriel of things slick and sweaty, and his pressing against it with clinging fingers and soft tears and it reminds him of bedroom eyes and messy hair and Gabriel feels his cock getting hard.

"Fag." Gabriel calls out to him, and Mohinder freezes, and looks at him with scared eyes, his cheek still pressed against the cold steel door.

"What do you want?" Mohinder asks, and he doesn't have to pretend to be brave, because he's too tired and too cold and too wet and too scared to be anything but.

Gabriel walks up to him and covers his head with his coat. "C'mon." He says. "I'll take you home,"

Mohinder's eyes go wide and fearful. "Please!" He begs, and Gabriel wants to hear him beg for more. "I don't want to go home!"

"Not your home, doofus."

At least he's not 'fag' anymore.

* * *

Chandra fucks like a man gone too long without a drink. Isaac fucks like a man who has had one too many.

Not Gabriel.

Gabriel fucks hims like his insane. He licks him and torments him and has Mohinder call him 'Sylar.'

And Mohinder loves it.

* * *

"I _knew_ you were a fag." Gabriel - only he wont let Mohinder call him that - laughs as he lights a cigarette. He extends the box to Mohinder, and he accepts it.

"So?" Mohinder asks, and rolls over, facing away from Gabriel (Sylar).

Gabriel (Sylar) groans and rolls him back over, so that Mohinder is lying in the croof of his arm, and Gabriel (Sylar) is smiling now.

Mohinder looks at him, confused, and Gabriel (Sylar) shrugs. "You were being such a _boy." _He explains.

"I'm always a boy." Mohinder pouts, a coy jutting of his lower lip, and because he _still doesn't get it. _

Sylar (Gabriel) shakes his head and puts out his cigarette. "You're such a girl."

And then they're fucking again.

* * *

Anonymous Fangirl - Fourth period smut. Please don't kill me.


End file.
